


Gut Instinct

by daughterofdurinanddestiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Battle of Hogwarts, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Love, Love Confessions, Office Sex, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofdurinanddestiel/pseuds/daughterofdurinanddestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ones who love you never really leave you.</p><p>Hermione Granger believes that Snape is on their side, so she sneaks into Hogwarts pre-Battle to get confirmation, or die in the attempt. She winds up getting more insight into the heart of Severus Snape than she had come for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gut Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione is over 18 and not a student in this fic.
> 
> I am still not over the death of Severus in the books, and after a particularly angsty day, my mind conjured this up, of love and promises and futures that never came. Enjoy!

_ I want to heal you _

_ I want to save you from the Dark _

 

Hermione Granger was eighteen years old, fighting a war, discovering a budding romance with her friend, and on the run because she was an unregistered Muggle-born, not to mention a known friend to Harry Potter. She was the brightest witch of her age, and she also had a fair amount of common sense, the most any Gryffindor had had since Lily Evans had graced that House with her presence in the 1970s.

So why was she standing outside of this very door, in the one place where she knew that, if she were caught, she’d be tortured and then killed? Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry had once been a safe haven. Now it was a den of Death Eaters intent on getting rid of Muggle-borns. And here she was, outside the door of the man who could be considered the leader of the Death Eaters, and was known as the Dark Lord’s most trusted advisor.

Hermione Granger was nothing if not smart, however, and she had a great gut instinct. Trusting it had gotten her (and Harry and Ron) out of some very tight spots. Right now, she thought her gut might be getting her  _ into  _ one instead of out.

She’d snuck into Hogwarts by “borrowing” Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, which was now stored in her magic handbag. She was uncovered, and had even managed to guess the password she needed to get into the door she wanted (“lily”, simple enough, as she had seen a vase of lilies on his desk many times in six years). Now all that remained was to knock on the inner door and gain entry.

She took a breath and hoped her gut was right, or else she was walking into the private chambers of a man who could torture her in ways Bellatrix Lestrange couldn’t even imagine. She knocked, the sound echoing in her ears.

“At this blasted time of evening? Enter!”

That familiar cold, smooth voice. Hearing it again gave her goosebumps. She opened the door slowly, trembling from fear and something else she dared not name. Not right then, anyway.

His back was to her. He was powerful enough and valuable enough to the Dark Lord to believe he need not protect himself at all times from the inhabitants of the castle. She could have used the Killing Curse and gotten rid of him then and there, avenged the death of Dumbledore, but she did not draw her wand.

“Well? What is it? I haven’t got all night,” he demanded, still perusing the books.

“Professor Snape?”

At the sound of her voice, the tall man’s entire body stilled. It seemed the very air in the room paused its movement as her words. The pronouncement of his name hung there, waiting to fall and crack on the marble tiles.

“What in Merlin’s name are  _ you  _ doing here?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet. He still did not turn around. “And how did you get in here undetected, figure out my password, and think that walking into my private quarters would be a good bloody idea?”

He was not attacking or subduing her, which gave her the confidence to walk forward, so that she was standing directly on the other side of his desk.

“I used Harry’s cloak, you always had a vase of lilies on your desk, and I did think it was a stupid idea, but I am here because my gut told me I needed to be,” she said, answering each of his questions with confidence. If she wavered, even a fraction, he would sense her weakness and doubt. She could not have that. She needed him to see she was certain, even if she was anything but.

However, the fact that he was talking to her and not hexing her was probably a good sign.

He turned then, and she saw he was thinner than ever, his dark eyes blank and emotionless. Not the way they used to be, when she would notice every little sparkle when he was being sarcastic, the glint when he was angry, and the fire when he was really worked up. Now there was nothingness, and Hermione’s heart broke for him.

“That is no answer. Why are you here?”

“Because I need answers,” she replied.

He chuckled darkly, but there was no happiness in that laugh. “Are you mad, girl? Is that it? Has that brilliant mind of your finally snapped?”

He was not killing her, or calling Voldemort. This was a good sign. “Professor, things don’t add up and my brilliant mind, as you just put it, has been trying to put it all together, but I am missing too many pieces.”

“So you thought it was wise to sneak into my office and ask me? Have you forgotten who I am and what I’ve done?” he wondered.

“No, sir. I know what you’ve done, as for who you are...that remains to be seen, doesn’t it? Why don’t I tell you what I think,” Hermione suggested.

He looked incredulous, but did not tell her no, so she went on.

“You had many opportunities to kill Dumbledore since You-Know-Who came back. And none of them involved blasting him off of Hogwarts in full view of Harry Potter. You stood to gain more by making us believe you were still our ally, so why would you do something as reckless as one of Harry’s ideas?”

He glared at her. “Really? You’re comparing me with Potter now? You must have a death wish, Granger.”

“No. I do have a gut instinct, and those are never wrong. I’ve been here for less than five minutes, but you still haven’t tried to kill me, or torture me to get Harry’s location. I know what you’re capable of, sir. Your powers are one of the many reasons I always admired you. So why are you just standing there, letting me run my mouth?”

He scoffed. “I could be using Legilimency on you right now, you silly little chit, and you would have no idea. And trying to ply me with false praise is certainly not the way to get me to bend to your will.”

“It’s not false,” Hermione corrected. “I think there is something more going on that none of us know about, and I want you to tell me the truth. I think, after years of torment, I deserve at least that much.”

“ _ Deserve _ ?” Severus hissed. “You think I owe you anything?”

She ignored that. “I think you’re a good man, and I want you to prove it. I want to know, Severus, please.”

He looked startled at the sound of his name on her lips. Her heart was beating in her ears as they simply stared at each other across the desk.

“What is it you want to know? And speak plainly, witch. Remember you are only alive right now because I allow it,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he did not wish to look directly at her.

Hermione swallowed hard. “Why? Why kill Dumbledore and ruin what could have been a perfect opportunity to get You-Know-Who closer to Harry? It was unwise to the plight you are putting forth, and the Severus Snape I have known since I was eleven is not a stupid man.”

“ _ Muffliato _ ,” Severus cast suddenly, his wand pointing at the door, and then again at the one window. He had drawn his wand so quickly, Hermione had not seen it. Had he decided to kill her, she would have been unable to protect herself.

“Why are you so bloody intent that I made mistakes?”

“Because I still believe you are a good man. Nothing you’ve done adds up, Severus. If I’m wrong. Obliviate my mind and let me go.”

Severus shook his head, dark hair obscuring his face. “You never cease to astound me sometimes, Granger. First of all, I would not Obliviate you: I’d give you the Cruciatus until your mind broke, just like Bellatrix did to Longbottom’s parents. Then I’d use Sectumsempra and watch you bleed to death on my carpet.”

Those words were meant to scare her, but she was tougher than she looked. After what bellatrix had done to her, she did not fear Snape’s threats.

“Then why don’t you?” she asked. “You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain from killing a Mudblood like me, right?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something akin to hurt. Had she somehow insulted him? It didn’t seem possible.

“As much as these words pain me, Granger, you’re right,” he said. “You’re positively mad for thinking I am a good man, because I am most certainly anything but. However, you are right. I am on your side. I always was.”

Hermione felt relief so intense, she sank into the visitor’s chair before the desk. If he was lying to her, too bad. She wanted to believe the lie, even for a moment. She wanted to think that once the war was over, things could go back to normal...a new kind of normal.

“The question I have for you is why did you ever think I could be on your side? And if you say ‘gut instinct’ again, I’ll hex you.”

She sighed. “You would not like the truth, sir. It would make you mock me, and I could not stand that anymore. Not from you.”

He leaned across the desk, eyes boring into her and making her feel naked before him, he said, “I mock. It is my nature. But one thing I never mock is honesty. Tell me.”

“It...it was something I realised in sixth year, when Slughorn came to teach.” She spat the wizard’s name like spoilt milk. “He made us brew Amorentia. And it wasn’t just what I smelled, either. It was realising that no one on Earth had a mind like yours. You challenged me, you made me want to be better. All I ever wanted was to impress you, Severus.”

He scoffed. “And what? You’re going to tell me you smelled me, or something that reminded you of me, in that steam? Do not insult my intelligence, Hermione.”

She leapt up from the chair then, repressed emotions spilling from her heart like a waterfall. “Damn it, Snape, sometime’s you’re as stubborn as a Gryffindor! From the moment you entered that first Potions class, my heart belonged to you. I was a child, but something in you etched itself in my mind and has been growing there like fungi.” She hiccuped from crying. “You said you wouldn’t mock my honesty, and here you are, mocking it.”

Severus was silent, regarding her with those searching eyes of his. “You are telling the truth, aren’t you, Hermione?” He shook his head. “You have placed your heart in very dangerous hands. I am afraid all I will do is crush it beyond repair.”

“Tell me what happened, what the plan is,” she said suddenly. “I want to know. I need to hear it from you.”

Severus paced behind his desk and began to tell Hermione a small portion of the plan Dumbledore had devised. He spoke softly, his eyes never leaving hers. While she knew he was a cunning man, she somehow knew everything he said was true. That was why she’d changed the subject: she wanted to know if he’d lie, if he had any tells. Because she had more to tell him, and more to ask him.

“What is the plan now?” she asked.

“In the simplest term, we wing it. By the time summer comes, and it is vastly approaching, I will try to bring Potter to the Dark Lord, under the ruse of my wanting him to be killed. And then the Dark Lord will destroy the Horcrux in him, never realising it. Everything else will have to be played by ear. My _ dear boss  _ Dumbledore left me no further instructions,” he said sarcastically. “Are you happy, Hermione? Being proven right on every level?”

She shook her head. “I won’t be happy until this is over.” She walked to his side of the desk, her legs weak with the force of her emotion. She had never spoken so plainly to anyone, never even acknowledged her own feelings to herself. He let her close the distance between them, leaving barely six inches of space.

“You’re afraid,” he observed.

“My friends could die. I could be imprisoned and tortured more than I already was, so yes, I am afraid,” she replied.

His eyes widened. “What do you mean tortured more than you have been? I realise I was never kind, but I do hope you understand it is my nature. I never meant anything I ever said to you to be construed as a personal attack, or torturous.”

“No, not you, Severus. Never you.” Hermione broke eye contact, reaching down and raising the sleeve of her sweater, revealing the angry looking scar Bellatrix had given her, crudely marking her as a Mudblood. She felt tears drip from her eyes and could not raise her face to his. She was ashamed at being branded.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt warm hands take her arm, one of his fingers gently ghosting across the scar that would never leave her. She barely suppressed sobs at the remembrance of that night, where she had very nearly been permanently broken.

Hermione gasped when she was suddenly yanked forward, the distance between her and her former professor closed now. She was pressed against his rough woolen robes, her face buried in his chest as she cried and his arms came round her.

“I am sorry,” he said, his voice but a rumble she felt more than heard. “I had hoped it was over, and I never wanted to see another in jeopardy because of how she was born.”

“Another?” Hermione asked, wiping her eyes and looking up at him.

“Harry’s mother, Lily,” he said quietly. “I could not save her...I lost her. It took from then till you walked in this room tonight for me to realise that everyone I care about gets harmed.”

Hermione reached up, placing her hand on his cheek. “Love does no harm. It protects,” she said. “Just like you’ve been protecting Harry...and by extension, me.”

“Who said anything about love?” he asked, and her heart stuttered.

“I only could hope. I know I’m young, and until recently I was your student. But I know deep down I never thought of you as just a professor. And I can only hope that, once this is over, we can begin a new kind of normal...together,” she said. “I’m eighteen, capable of making my own choices now, and I choose you...if you’ll have me.”

“Why me?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Because you are brave, and strong, and intelligent, and...do I really have to stand here enumerating every single thing that makes me love you?” she asked, exasperated.

He chuckled, and then, faster than Hermione could comprehend, he had captured her lips in his dark, searing kiss. She threaded one hand in his surprisingly soft locks, keeping the other on his shoulder. His one hand gripped her waist (she was so small compared to him) and the other weaved in her unruly hair, tilting her head up to give him better access.

He swiped his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she parted them, letting his tongue explore her mouth, dancing with hers, tasting. His lips were soft, and his hands held her steady when she felt as though her knees might give out.

She pulled away for breath, and be began to kiss along her cheek and jawline, moving down to kiss her throat. She was gasping as his tongue teased her pulse point, and his teeth worried the flesh, lightly leaving his marks along her throat.

“I do not know what you want with a man double your age, a man whose good points could not be seen even if you used  _ ‘engorgio’  _ on them, but if you want me I will have you, and I will never let you go,” he said in her ear, catching the lobe in his teeth and making her gasp again.

She held onto him for dear life, memorising the look and feel of him. On the surface her feelings might seem unbelievable, but once someone looked beyond student/teacher, beyond May-December, and beyond physical appearance, they would see two souls that were undoubtedly the same, two minds and hearts forever entwined.

Hermione placed her hand over his rapidly beating heart, feeling the thump beneath the robes that swaddled his form. “Severus, please, I want you before I have to leave.”

“Hermione...no,” he said, though he sounded hesitant. “I do not want our first time to be out of desperation, in an office. You deserve better than that.”

“We may not be together for months, Severus, please. Give me something good to hold onto during the trying times ahead,” she pleaded.

Her plea was heard, as he ran his hand down her side, and back up, circling her breasts as he brought the hoodie’s zipper down, revealing her plain white sleeveless shirt beneath it. She wore no bra, and his every touch sent shivers down her spine.

He kissed her as he caressed her, and she removed his heavy robes and frock coat, revealing a plain white shirt that she began to unbutton.

He unzipped her jeans, letting them pool around her ankles as his long fingers slipped beneath her simple cotton panties, brushing her folds that were already wet. He unceremoniously tore them from her frame. She gasped into his kiss as he slid his fingers inside of her. Leading her with him, he sat in his sturdy wing chair, pulling her in his lap as he continued to finger her. She gripped his shoulders as he hit the spot that made her see stars, so much better than Viktor and Ron had been.

He raised her shirt to reveal her breasts and began to lick her erect nipples, sucking on them and causing wanton moans to come forth from her throat.

“So responsive, Hermione,” he said. “Come for me, Hermione. Show me how much you love me.”

His thumb pressed against her clit as his fingers curled inside of her and she screamed, her orgasm ripping through her as she clung to him, riding it out.

He caressed her skin, calming her from her high as his other hand reached between them and she felt him undoing his trousers.

She reached a hand down to help him, feeling his hot length in her hand. He was already leaking precome on her skin.

“Lift yourself up,” he ordered and she complied. She felt him line his cock up at her dripping entrance, at first caressing the folds, teasing her. He began to push inside, guiding her hips down so that he filled her completely. They stayed like that for a few moments, savouring the feeling of completeness they both felt.

“Move,” he commanded, and she started to lift her hips, getting the friction she needed. Severus moved slowly, as if he were afraid she would break. She had not expected him to be a sweet lover such as this, but it was a nice surprise. Never had she imagined she could feel so happy, so loved, and so safe as she was in his lap, as he thrust inside of her.

She angled her body so he could move easier, and he started hitting that same spot again with unerring accuracy. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he kept thrusting, his hands bruising her hips as he gripped her tighter.

“Severus, please,” she said, and those two words undid her former professor. He moved faster, impaling her harder and harder.

“Touch yourself, Hermione,” he said, and she did, reaching between them and rubbing her clit as she came hard, thankful he had cast  _ Muffliato  _ earlier.

He kept making love to her, and on the heels of her orgasm he released himself inside of her, holding her still as he filled her, claimed her.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until he moved to kiss her.

“Your friends will notice you’ve been gone,” he pointed out.

She nodded. “I must go.”

“Only for now, Hermione. After the Dark Lord is defeated, we can be together. It is not much longer,” he promised.

They redressed, and Hermione reached into her bag for the cloak. Before she could put it on, Severus stopped her, turning her and kissing her deeply. That kiss conveyed every emotion they both felt but could not say, and Hermione began to cry again in his arms.

“I love you,” she said. “Promise me you’ll keep safe, Severus.”

“I promise, my little-know-it-all.” He smiled down at her, kissing her one final time.

She donned the cloak and looked back at him only once before slipping away. He was standing before the window, moonlight illuminating his skin. He was still smiling.

It was the last time the two ever spoke to each other.

 

****

 

“Hermione, get me something! A phial, anything!” Harry cried.

Hermione was standing stock still in the Shrieking Shack, her body incapable of movement and her mind incapable of thought. Her eyes were locked with Severus Snape’s as tears of memory trailed down his face and blood poured from the wound in his neck.

She could not cry, could not feel. She could only stare.

“Hermione!”

Severus glanced at Harry, and then back at her, the nod of his head nearly imperceptible. “Help him, love,” he said, his voice audible to none but her, as she was closest to him.

Fumbling in her bag, she found a phial and could do nothing but watch as Harry collected Snape’s memories, his dying thoughts. She watched blankly as the man she loved and had pledged herself to breathed his last, his beautiful obsidian eyes losing their sparkle for eternity.

She was dragged back to the castle, forced to stay away from Severus, lest she give away her secret. It was not until the battle was over that she stole away, back to the Shack.

Her rational mind had gone silent, and she somehow thought that he might still be alive. Poisoned, but alive. It was possible, she knew that, but highly improbable. Still, she crawled through the tunnel and into the Shack.

He was there in the same position, covered in his own cold blood. His eyes were open, staring into nothingness.

The sight was what finally broke her, snapped her mind back into reality and she shrieked, falling to her knees at his side. “Severus! Severus please, wake up!” she sobbed, her tears falling onto his body. “Severus, no! Please,  _ no _ !” Her every nerve was trembling as she touched his cold body, trying in vain to find some sign of life.

She did not know how long she was there, sobbing, but when she got up it was nightfall and her every limb was sore from being on the floor. Gently, she closed his eyes and kissed his lips one last time. Her professor, her hero, her love.

 

****

 

Nineteen Years Later

 

The night before she was to send her daughter, Rose, off to Hogwarts, Hermione Weasley could not sleep. She wandered her house, the small hours of the morning intensifying the grief she had carried with her for nearly two decades.

She might have married Ron, she might love him, but she would never be his the way he had been Severus’. She would never love Ron the same way. He was a good man, a good father, but he was not Severus. Not by a long shot.

“Mum? Why are you crying?”

Hermione jumped. “Rose! Why are you awake?”

“I’m too excited to sleep. What is wrong, Mum?” her daughter asked.

“Just remembering someone I lost. Someone I knew at Hogwarts. He was...he was a very special person, Rose, and I miss him terribly sometimes,” she replied, ruffling her daughter’s hair.

Rose leaned against her on the couch. “Tell me about him, please.”

Hermione began to talk, remembering things she had not thought of in years because they were too painful. The way his hair framed his face, the sparkle in his eyes, the tone of his voice. His brilliant mind that challenged her every class.

“He sounded mean but nice,” Rose said. “You know?”

Hermione nodded.

“I bet he loved you, too, and I’m sure he’s happy you’re with Dad. and I bet he misses you, too.”

Hermione had expected Rose to write home as scarcely as she had, but two days after Rose began Hogwarts, she sent a letter home to her mother.

“Mum, the man you told me about has a portrait in the Headmistress’ office. He told me to tell you you were ‘the best little know-it-all he had ever known’. He said you’d know what it meant.”

Hermione laughed as she cried. All might not be well, but knowing Severus had even managed to imbue his love for her into his portrait, it filled her heart, knowing that the one she loved would never truly leave her.


End file.
